


The Private Thoughts of a Silent Worshipper

by ThisisVenereVeritas



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Low Chaos Daud, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisisVenereVeritas/pseuds/ThisisVenereVeritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daud fell in love with a boy made of porcelain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Private Thoughts of a Silent Worshipper

Daud fell in love with a boy made of porcelain.

It began with wonderment. Nights were spent with eyes wide open, and cold sweat running down the back of his neck. A young Daud speculated the manner of his affliction. Were they nightmares to begin with, or perhaps a strange message from the Cosmos? He could not recall the exact details of the dreams. He never saw the face behind the sultry but frightening voice. Never saw the long fingers that reached for him, eyes that watched for him, the lips that formed his name over and over, calling him further into the void.

His questions came to an end when the Outsider finally chose to visit him. He was Dunwall’s treasure located under several years of accumulated debris, scraps of paper, rotten food and his discarded dreams. They found each other worn from years of improper use. Chipped fingernails and dirtied skin dulled the Outsider’s natural glow. The purple blemishes under the eyes stole attention from the face. When was the last time someone had cared for the enigmatic being, polished and cleared away the prints left behind by greedy hands?

The deity refused to answer anything beyond what he thought was appropriate, and appeared before Daud to offer him a life of risk and insecurity. His cool voice echoed, bounced across Daud’s inner workings as the Outsider’s mark was painfully etched into the back of Daud’s hand. When it was over Daud looked up at the being that had recognized him, chased after him in his dreams and found him worthy of such a peculiar honor. The vivid image of the Outsider’s curious smile, his empty stare and promise of unpredictability was a warning that Daud had failed to comprehend.

It started right away. Daud visited the god almost nightly; spoke with him in a pleasing subservient manner. Daud accepted the Outsider’s compliments, the whispers and musings of an ancient figure, and he twisted them until they became a boy’s. Daud watched him over the lanterns, the limited source of light would always bright out the white of the boy’s face, the sharpness of his cheeks, the pale lips. Daud memorized the look, took it with him wherever he went. He imagined the soft light glowing against the boy’s bony shoulders, popping out the sharp counters of the underfed body. His freckles were stains, speckles that extenuated the figure. Under the sunlight they were blinding, the moonlight spectacles that painted the vast white space. Reverse stars. Giving the opportunity Daud could spend all night trying to count them.

During each mission Daud thought of the porcelain boy. Under the light of the sun, Daud envisioned the unholy glow, the tattered jacket, worn rings and boots encased in filth. In the shadows he slayed men, watched their blood decorate the pavement and walls, and he wondered if his boy could bruise? Daud slit throats and envisioned what he could do with a knife against such polished skin. Such bony ankles and round lips. Daud saw pungent red blood erupting from white flesh. Sometimes Daud’s imagination got the better of him and he’d no longer see his latest bounty, but the boy underneath him, waiting for him, always demanding for him to make his next move.

The compliments and praise from Daud’s nightly talks with the boy no longer satiated him. Daud dreamed of dining on such fine silverware. He entangled himself under wooly blankets, breathing labored as he dreamed of having the boy for himself. His nights grew busy with thoughts of the boy’s soothing voice, the way the lips formed when he whispered Daud’s name. Daud’s mind sank deeper, migrating further into dangerous water as it presented him images of the boy’s naked form; his young adolescent frame, and flushed skin. His stretched out frame exposed the prominent ribs lying underneath his delicate skin. Daud fantasized about the boy’s smile. He thought of the boy’s penis; white all around, minus the bright red head. Foreskin pulled back, the erection was a tulip with a white stem. It blossomed despite its snowy landscape, the round and colored head in constant search for warmth. The queer flower found its sunlight in the dark crevices of Daud's fingers, palm or mouth.

It escalated with time. Daud constructed shrines, first to appease, later with the private thought to tease. It was impossible to irk the boy, stir a reaction from his mysterious God. He performed his tricks, did what he could to earn a compliment or two. Daud did whatever he could. Scars spread across his body, hungry roots in search of something. _Anything._ They spread across his lower back and left painful aches late in the day, just before it rained or during the coldest months. They etched into his skin, became wrinkles and permanent signs of worry. Hair receded. Senses dulled. His body grew tired. His boy remained the same.

It ended abruptly. Still, Daud chased.

Daud sought after the boy who had called out his name, hunted long after his lips grew silent. Daud searched after his abandonment, always in denial as he saturated his mind with the promise of reunification. Daud went in circles looking, searching for what was never there. Long sleepless nights returned. Daud stared up at the disarrayed ceiling, watching murky clouds spread over the starry canvas and he thought of the boy. The boy that was supposedly always watching, that knew he suffered perpetual loneliness, that chose to remain hidden from Daud despite knowing this. Throughout the night Daud watched the overcast above, his soul aching at the break of dawn, at the morning light breaking apart the night sky as well as any remaining fantasies he had left.

Daud had fallen for an illusion.


End file.
